


Fireside

by Thunderfire69



Series: Weekly Prompts (IronStrange Discord’s Prompts) [6]
Category: Avengers: Infinity War - Fandom, Doctor Strange - Fandom, Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Being Burned, Burned at the stake, Butterflies, Fire, IronStrange, M/M, Magic, Medieval AU, Stephen dies, StrangeIron, Witch Trials, burned to death, minor torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderfire69/pseuds/Thunderfire69
Summary: Stephen is declared a sorcerer and is going to be burned at the stake.





	1. Fireside: Stephen’s POV

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t get around to doing last week’s prompt, so for this week’s prompt I put in as much effort as I possibly could.

Under the dim light coming from the small sliver of the moon that was showing, a figure walked with hands bound and shackled, a chain linking his legs so that he could just walk without tugging it taut. Soldiers flanked him, and there was one behind him with a sword pressed between his shoulder blades, as if daring him to try and escape. He took slow, trudging steps, his chin down against his chest. It wasn’t hard to tell where he was headed.

 

Further down the road was a large pile of kindling, logs and bark and wood and anything that would burn, including the bodies of more than a few already-dead citizens. The soldier behind the figure gave him a hard shove, sending him tumbling onto his knees. He instantly pushed himself back up, ignoring the blood now on his knees and hands, and the scuffed, slightly torn skin. He ignored the pain, kept his chin down, and simply walked a little faster than he had been before.

 

“That’s right, get moving, sorcerer,” the soldier jeered, and the soldiers flanking the figure simply chuckled a little along with him. The figure raised his head, daring to meet the eye of the guard on his right.

 

“Doctor Stephen Strange, if you will,” he said, tone betraying no emotion. The look that he gave the soldiers was cool and calloused, and didn’t give away much emotion either. The soldier behind him kicked him in the shin. Hard. Stephen fell down onto one knee, and took a moment before he got back up.

 

“Filthy sorcerer,” hissed the soldier on his left, poking him harshly with the point of his sword; not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a bruise. Stephen simply took it, unflinching, and continued to walk, through his pace was noticeably faster. He’d rather die than have to deal with the soldiers’ torturing.

 

He finally reached the end of the street, and the two soldiers on his flanks took up more defensive positions, swords level and pointed directly at him. Stephen forced himself not to scan the crowd for Tony; the pain on his lover’s face would be too much to bare.

 

He was marched up to the pile of wood, then soldiers roughly lifted him onto the small ledge that he was to stand on; their hands dug into him painfully, but he knew better than to complain. Then rope was tied tightly around him to bind him, the ropes around his wrists digging harshly into his skin and drawing blood.

 

One soldier lifted a lit torch, jeering loudly at Stephen as he did so. “Any last acts, filthy sorcerer?”

 

In answer, Stephen spread his hands as wide as he could; butterflies erupted from his fingertips, all different colours but the most common being blue and green. They fluttered into the air to spell out three words;  _ I love you.  _ Then they dispersed, scattering to the sky, and Stephen’s hands dropped.

 

“Impressive,” the same soldier said sarcastically. “But we do not return your affections.”

 

But the words were not for them. They were for Tony, who, against Stephen’s better will, he had found amongst the crowd. Tony, who’s whisky brown eyes, full of tears, now met Stephen’s. Tony, who mouthed  _ I love you too _ the exact moment before the soldier threw the lit torch into the kindling.

 

Tony, whose gaze remained on Stephen as fire licked up towards him. Tony, who didn’t flinch away when Stephen began to wince. Tony, who didn’t falter when Stephen began to scream, as his flesh melted away and burned and became blacked and dead. Tony, whom Stephen kept his eyes on until he physically couldn’t any longer.

 

It was only after his eyes slipped closed that Stephen finally heard Tony let out an anguished cry, but it was only seconds after that when darkness overtook Stephen, freeing him from the pain and releasing him to the inky blackness of death.

  
  
  



	2. Fireside: Tony’s POV

The night was dark, and only a small sliver of moonlight lit the courtyard where the execution was taking place. Tony had been there for hours, despite feeling so sick to his stomach that he’d nearly thrown up at least five times already. He’d made a silent promise to Stephen that he would be there, that he would attempt to provide  _ some  _ comfort to Stephen as he died.

 

Finally, Stephen walked up to the pile of kindling and wood and bodies and any burnable material. Blood stained his knees and hands, and his skin there was slightly ripped, giving Tony reason to believe the soldiers with him had been giving him an exceptionally hard time. 

 

When Tony had found out Stephen was a sorcerer, he’d been torn. Sorcerer’s were the cause of his mother and father’s death, and here was the man he loved, telling him that he was one of them. In time, Tony learned to live with this, and learned how to hide it, like he’d learned to hide his and Stephen’s relationship for so long. He knew that he too would be executed if word got back to the King about him and Stephen, so he’d promised the sorcerer that he would leave the city after Stephen died.

 

After all, he was the only one left to keep Stephen’s memory alive. He watched as the soldiers lifted Stephen onto the ledge, watched how Stephen didn’t fight back. A soldier held a lit torch high above his head, waving it around in a mocking manner. Tony felt like closing his eyes, but forced himself not to.

 

“Any last acts, filthy sorcerer?” jeered the soldier, and it took everything in Tony not to kill him then and there. Stephen simply spread his hands as wide as he could; Tony watched in awe as butterflies fluttered off his fingertips to form three words in the sky;  _ I love you. _

 

Tony nearly choked on tears then and there, knowing he’d never get the chance to properly say it back. Stephen had never said that he loved Tony before, and now Tony would never get to say it in return.

 

“Impressive,” the soldier said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “But we do not return your affections.”

 

Stephen's eyes met Tony’s. For a moment, Tony was frozen. Then he managed to mouth the words  _ I love you too  _ and Stephen’s face seemed to soften, as if he’d heard. Then the soldier threw the lit torch down onto the kindling.

 

Tony forced himself not to look away as Stephen began to twitch and wreathe in pain, and forced himself not to look away as Stephen began to scream. It was only after Stephen’s eyes slipped closed and he fell completely still that Tony allowed himself to scream too, to let his tears spill over and to run, to sprint from the courtyard and never look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry but like I also had so much fun writing this

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone: Fireside what a cute prompt-  
> Me, an angst machine: Witch trials. Stephen dies.
> 
> The next chapter is the same story but from Tony’s POV because extra angst


End file.
